


The Inspector's Wife

by Hililmissy



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Bad at tagging, F/M, Gen, Multi, Occult, Other characters may be mentioned - Freeform, Possible AU, Some Period Typical Attitudes, Witches, does anyone else even like Rusk?, generally pre-series, i'm just saying he'd have been more appreciated in a different series, just let me love Inspector Rusk damnit, relationships with law enforcement officials have their own challenges, this is purely for me, victorian london, victorian romance, would have lived longer too, y'know the ones where badass dedicated detectives are the protagonists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-24 00:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19712731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hililmissy/pseuds/Hililmissy
Summary: The Inspector Bartholomew Rusk we witness on Penny Dreadful will do anything to preserve law and order. What if he was as dedicated in all aspects of his life - including to the woman he loves? Snapshots of the intertwined lives of Bartholomew Rusk and Adelia Addington.A series of generally fluffy one-shots/drabbles written for myself borne out of my love of this character and desire to explore him further when he is not chasing murderers. Posted in the probably flawed belief that they will be less pathetic for doing so.Despite my great respect for Rusk, there is little order, or plot, to this series. If anyone besides myself enjoys these I will be very surprised but also surprisingly pleased.





	1. A Personal Matter

**Author's Note:**

> It would be ridiculous to state how much research into life in Victorian London I have done whilst writing these. I very much doubt much of my findings will appear in these one-shots, but you know we writers love to show our work wherever possible. Other aspects will be studiously ignored, because I'm aiming to write my beloved Rusk a love story here, not be historically accurate. I've attempted to keep the man as in-character as possible, but considering that we only see him in the pursuit of his duty as an Inspector and know nothing of his past save his serving in the army, you could go ahead and consider my version an AU. Adelia, my oc, has her own backstory, that may or not be revealed throughout the series. Who knows? 
> 
> If you do decide to keep reading, please enjoy and let me know what you think.

“Excuse me, Miss Addington, if I might have a moment of your time.”

Adelia looked up from her work to see Inspector Bartholomew Rusk stood by her desk. She allowed a soft smile and set her pen down. “Certainly. What can I do for you, Inspector?”

She thought the Inspector seemed almost nervous, something she had never witnessed from him before. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I have a personal matter I would like to discuss. I hoped I could call on you Saturday morning. At ten am, perhaps.”

Adelia felt a brief surge of panic before pushing it down. “… I am not opposed to that. Ten would be fine. I board with Mr and Mrs Wiggins at 24 Chapel Avenue in Kensington.”

This rose an eyebrow but secured a nod from the Inspector. “I will see you then. Good day to you, Miss Addington.” He bowed his head to her before moving to leave, placing his hat on his head as he did so. Adelia watched him go, wondering what he wished to discuss. Her job as a clerk for Scotland Yard meant that she was aware of the Inspector, but they had only started communicating on a somewhat regular basis recently. He was unfailingly respectful and polite, but she couldn’t imagine what sort of personal business he would wish to discuss with her.

\------------------------------

Quarter to ten Saturday morning found Adelia seated in the front parlour, fighting the urge to fidget. She had done her best to remain distracted but had struggled to sleep the previous night, mind filled with worries about what the Inspector wished to talk about. Had she been discovered?

Mrs Martha Wiggins, who had agreed to act as chaperone to this meeting, read her anxiety with ease. “Don’t fret, my dear,” she stated patting Adelia’s hand, “whatever the matter is, we will deal with it.”

The ringing of the doorbell and prompt response from Jinkley, the Wiggins butler, broke Adelia’s reverie. She had just loosed a sigh and purposefully relaxed her frame when Rusk entered the room. His gaze alighted on Mrs Wiggins, then Adelia and he nodded politely to both. “Lady Wiggins, Miss Addington. Good day to you both.”

He sat where indicated by his host. Martha waited for him to be seated before replying. “Good day to you, Inspector Rusk.” Adelia echoed the greeting with as much lightness as she could muster, but she had little experience as a host and was unsure of her success at hiding her anxiety. Rusk made brief eye contact with her before directing his next statement to Mrs Wiggins.

“Mr Rusk is fine, my Lady. As I told Miss Addington, it is a personal matter I wish to broach, not a professional one. Which is why I thought a home visit more appropriate than broaching the topic at work.”

“As I said then, what can I do for you, I- Mr Rusk?” Adelia saw the brief upturn of his lips at her near slip. She’d always used his title.

Bartholomew Rusk took a moment before replying, briefly wetting his lip. “I hope you do not think me too forward, or this too far out the left field… But I was hoping to gain permission to court you, Miss Addington.”

Martha did not lower herself to gasp, but she did allow a contemplative expression to form. She did not have to glance at the younger woman to feel her shock. It was only luck she felt, that Adelia had been shocked to silence rather than hysterics. To give her charge a moment to recover herself she intervened. “I gather you can tell, Mr Rusk, that your request _is_ rather unexpected. Adelia does not often speak of her work, so I’m unsure how well acquainted the two of you are, though clearly not so well that she anticipated this.”

Adelia nodded. “This is indeed unexpected, Mr Rusk. May I ask why?”

“I did not mean to seem bold, Miss Addington. Truthfully, I’ve been giving the matter some serious thought over the past couple of months. I am at a position in life where I have the economic stability to support a family… and I desire companionship. Someone who I can converse freely with. I had that, first with family and then the military, but now it’s gone and I have been noticing its absence more frequently. It’s true, we only know each other slightly through work, but I have enjoyed our conversations. You appear, if I may say, to be a polite, well-read and practical woman with a good amount of sense. So, I ask permission to court you, so we may see if we are compatible and may find further enjoyment in each other through marriage.”

Adelia felt her gaze defocus as he spoke, watching dust swirl in the morning sun. She could not help but chuckle. “So this is why you have been talking to me more in recent weeks. I appreciate your frankness and the compliments, but this is still very much unexpected. May I have some time to consider?”

“Of course, Miss Addington. I will leave you to think.” He rose, replacing his hat in a manner that reminded her of the previous Friday and walked to the entrance, before turning back towards the two women. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Wiggins. I will see you on Monday, Miss Addington. Good day to you both.” He nodded to them before allowing himself to be escorted out by Jinkley.

Martha turned to Adelia as the door shut. “Well, well,” she stated with a lively tone, “that was rather exciting. I too, will leave you to contemplate by yourself for now dearie. Later, you can tell me all you know about this Bartholomew Rusk.” 

\-----------------------------

Oh, Adelia had contemplated. She had given Mr Rusk’s proposal a lot of thought. At first she had not known what to think, the surprising nature of the offer itself stalling her thoughts. But when informing Martha of all she knew of Rusk and Martha adding her own knowledge – no doubt gleaned from talking to various acquaintances after the Inspector had departed – she felt herself drawn to the offer. She too had enjoyed the brief conversations they had had so far, particularly the dry wit Rusk possessed. He was polite, even-tempered, dedicated. Getting to know him further sounded pleasant. After several years in London Adelia felt she had found her footing, and had been feeling a desire to make her own way in life. The kindness of the Wiggins had been indisputable and she would treasure them always, particularly Martha who had been such a friend to her. But she did not want to depend on them forever, and she sympathised with Rusk’s desire for a companion. This was one way she could progress her life. Besides, if she and Rusk proved not to be compatible, then they could return to being simply work colleagues, without issue. That was the whole purpose of courtship, after all. Come Monday morning, as she walked to the Yard offices both she and the Inspector worked in, she felt her spirit soar with optimism that had been absent from her life for so long. She had resolved to accept the Inspector’s offer, and the possibilities that came with it.


	2. Acceptance and Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some chapters are more closely linked than others. This one follows on from the first, and the third will be linked to this. The majority of chapters will be like this, but I make no promises. Hopefully I can keep events in order so they make some sort of sense. That's not required so much when writing for oneself. Also, yes, I do rewatch all of Rusk's scenes with almost religious fervour. Yes, I know I'm weird. Enjoy.

Adelia felt like a girl much younger than her twenty-nine years as she knocked on the Inspector’s office door. She entered with his blessing, and offered him the documents that he had requested. “The copy of the autopsy report, Inspector.” He glanced up at her as he took the papers and was about to respond when he noticed the sheet atop of them.

_I cordially accept your offer, Mr Rusk. I look forward to getting to know you better. Would you like to start our courtship by walking me home this evening?_

_Sincerely,_

_Adelia Addington_

Adelia could feel herself flush as he read. True, she could have accepted his offer verbally, but this felt more appropriate to their workplace environment and she imagined the Inspector would appreciate keeping the two somewhat separate. She had fretted over the wording of the brief note probably more than was reasonable, but she enjoyed the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Such feelings showed that, despite everything, her life was still hers to enjoy.

Rusk looked at her again with a softer expression than when she’d entered. “I’m pleased to hear that, Miss Addington. I would be happy to, but I thought you finished at four on Mondays?”

Adelia let her lips curl in a rueful smile. “Normally I do, but Chief Inspector Rowling has asked me to sort through and categorize the crime department invoices in the records room, so I will likely be finishing when you do today.” With optimism and sunlight singing in her blood she let go of her careful reserve. “I may require medical attention for the numerous paper cuts I am sure to incur as I go about my task.”

Rusk huffed with amusement at the playful quip and twinkle in her eyes. He saluted her with his tea cup. “A monumental task. I wish you luck with your efforts. If medical aid is required I will ensure you receive it, Miss Addington. And I will see you later.” Adelia could not help her smile as she left his office, and even the sight of the cluttered records room did not dim it.

\---------------------

“Do you smoke, Miss Addington?” He asked, proffering a cigarette. Adelia shook her head and Rusk brought the cigarette to his own lips. He reached for a match but was stopped by Adelia’s own hand.

“Allow me,” she murmured, lighting the match. This close to him she could not help but notice the pale blue of his eyes, and it made her heart thump. It was deafening when his lips twitched upwards as she lit the cigarette. She leaned back in her seat with flushed cheeks. They were in his office still, despite the late hour. Everyone else on day shift had long since left, with only the scant night crew in attendance. She had stuck her head in his office perhaps two hours ago to see if the Inspector was ready to escort her home as planned. He’d stated he had only one last task and invited her to sit and wait. They had started talking and had not stopped.

“The intimacy increases.” The Inspector murmured with an amused tone. “I appreciate your boldness, Miss Addington. The rigid rules of courtship can make it difficult to actually get to know one another, though I would not dream of dishonouring you.” He exhaled smoke away from his companion. “I will escort you home after this, I swear. I did not mean to let it get so late.”

“No need to apologise, we were both distracted… And if we are being bold,” she caught his gaze almost not believing her own daring, “you make smoking look very attractive, Mr Rusk.” His lips moved again into a smirk that set her heart racing.

“Thank you.” He glanced down still smirking, then tapped the cigarette case. “I got into the habit whilst in the military. A fellow infantryman, Humphreys, got me into it. Blasted fellow.” Adelia chuckled with him. She stretched her legs and eyed the darkening sky as Rusk continued to smoke. Hopefully Martha wasn’t worrying unduly about her, but she should definitely get back soon. Her good mood soured as it suddenly occurred to her what Martha might have made of her disappearance – that she had been found again and stolen away. It was one of both womens’ greatest fears, and she had not thought of it in the hours in Rusk’s presence. The man seemed to notice her changed mood, and stabbed out the remains of the cigarette. “Come,” he said, standing. “Let’s get you home.”

Outside, Adelia drew her coat tight and turned away from the wind. As they walked in relative silence – London was never truly quiet – Adelia turned towards him. “I don’t want you to think that I’ve tired of your company. Far from it, these past couple of hours have been most enjoyable. It’s just Martha – Lady Wiggins – will be worrying about me. She’s a very sweet and protective woman.”

“No explanation required, Miss Addington. I’ve kept you quite past the time I was intending to. Lady Wiggins seems a most admirable woman. How did you come to board with the Wiggins?” He asked.

Adelia swallowed the anxiety that such questions always caused, though the pleasant evening lessened it somewhat. “The Wiggins are old friends to my family. When I needed a place to stay, they kindly offered their home.”

As they approached Chapel Avenue the Inspector murmured a reply. “I see.” At number 24 he turned to her. “Here you are, safe home. Have a pleasant night, Miss Addington. I will see you tomorrow.”

Adelia smiled at him. “And you, Mr Rusk. I anticipate our next rendezvous – though perhaps not so late next time.” Perhaps it was the cold, or the heightened emotions of the day but Adelia felt drained. Rusk smiled in return before starting off home. Adelia watched after him for a moment before retiring inside.


	3. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hush, I know this is ridiculous. Some typical Victorian attitudes here that will likely offend modern sensibilities. Nothing too extreme, just around the stigma of single-for-life women (aka spinsters). Also, this one is the shortest so far.

The weeks after followed in a similar manner. They were careful to appear merely as respectful colleagues at work, aided by the fact that they didn’t frequently work together, as neither wished for a buzz around their courtship. Adelia found Bartholomew Rusk to be a somewhat reserved individual in public, like herself.

They exchanged letters, and often met up over the weekend when duty allowed. At first, Martha chaperoned these meetings, but after assurances from her charge, who was after all no young upper class lady in her first season, she let them spend time alone though she remained nearby.

Adelia was ecstatic. Accepting Rusk’s proposal had been the right thing to do. The more they conversed the more she liked him. Oh, some women may have complained that he was no dashing corsair, no tall-dark-and-dangerous gentlemen, but Adelia found him charming. He was polite yes, but frank and more open in his speech than many men would be with a woman. He listened to her opinions and seemed in no way put off by her education or more intellectual habits. Indeed, they had read a good many of the same books and topics of conversation were broad and easy to find. Or else they would find themselves in companionable silence, content in each other’s company. Other books they recommended to each other, producing yet more conversation. The despondent loneliness that had clung to her for the past several years had vanished, and she relished each opportunity they had to speak. Though it was growing increasingly difficult to not burst into a smile whenever they happened across each other at Scotland Yard, and she knew some of her fellow clerks were starting to notice.

That came to a head nearly two months after they had first started courting. Adelia was working on the accounts for the police carriages when Eliza Barrow, a fellow clerk a few years younger than herself, planted herself by her desk. Before Adelia could speak, Eliza demanded “what is going on with you and Inspector Rusk?” Her tone was pitched so they would not be overheard, but Adelia cast a glance around for witnesses anyway. Eliza harrumphed. “I know how to keep a confidence, Adelia. I would not risk exposing you to dishonour – we may not be close but you seem a sweet person. I simply thought you should know that officers have seen the two of you walking together several times now, so people may start talking.”

Adelia sighed internally and offered Eliza a soft smile. “Thank you for your kindness, Eliza. In truth, we have been courting, but we didn’t want to attract attention.”

Eliza nodded, humming thoughtfully. “That’s fair,” she declared, “it’s nice that someone’s finally taking notice of you, I’ve never understood how you’re still unmarried and almost thirty! Hopefully Inspector Rusk will save you from spinsterhood.” It took great effort to keep her smile in place, though she knew Eliza meant well. There was a great stigma attached to being a spinster.

“Thank you,” she repeated in a low murmur, “but I should get back to work. Have a good day, Eliza.” 


	4. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, we're officially taking a time jump here. What can I say, I wanted to get into the more romantic elements. I may write some more that take place during the courtship, who knows? Maybe I'll categorise: courtship period, engagement period, marriage period. Fun, fun.  
> I smiled a lot writing this one, short as it is.

“This is not at all the way I wanted to do this,” Bartholomew murmured, causing Adelia to stare at him in confusion.

“But it can’t be helped,” he turned to her with a soft smile and cleared his throat. “Will you marry me, Adelia Addington?”

The words dragged the air out of Adelia’s lungs, and for a moment she could only stare wide-eyed at him. He waited with characteristic patience.

“Oh… Yes. Of course, yes!” Her cheeks hurt from grinning so wide, and without quite knowing what she was doing she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. “Yes,” she repeated again against his shoulder. It vibrated with his laughter. “I’d be honoured and pleased, so very, very pleased, to be your wife, Bartholomew Rusk.”

His arm tightened around her. His prosthetic dug into her stomach but Adelia could not have cared less, finally being held by him the way she had wanted to be.

“The honour is all mine, Adelia. I plan to continue pleasing you, as you have pleased me… I cannot overstate how happy your acceptance makes me. Asking to court you was one of the best decisions I have made.”

Truly it hurt to smile so much, but Adelia did not mind this pain. They smiled like fools for a few moments, before Adelia found her gaze being drawn to his lips as had been increasingly common. Boldness and a long simmering desire overtook her.

“If we are now engaged, may I finally kiss you?”

Bartholomew’s tongue touched his lower lip at the question, further tormenting her. That tongue had teased her for months with its coy appearances.

“You may,” he allowed finally. They met halfway, eager and tender. She sighed against his mouth, soul soaring. They lingered together, breath mingling sweetly, before parting slightly to catch each other’s gaze. Adelia nibbled her tingling lips. “Kiss me again?” She whispered.

“For the rest of my life.”


	5. An Unexpected Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hint of outside plot, what is this? I struggled with the title for this one, oh well. Engagement period, though it should be clear in the chapter. Yes, more sappy romance, sue me.

“Mr Wiggins, might we have a word?” Adelia was surprised to see Bartholomew Rusk and his partner enter the room. He glanced at her before saying “forgive me, Miss Addington, but can we have the room?”

Despite her confusion she nodded. “Of course, Inspector.” Clearly, Rusk was here in a professional capacity, which meant it was none of her business. She glanced at Matthew, who appeared distraught, his head hanging down. Her heart sunk. “Come on, Abigail, Terrence. Let’s go see what Lady Martha is up to in the garden, shall we?” She called to the children. They left their toys strewn on the rug and jogged outside, clearly eager to escape the heavy atmosphere that had descended on the room. Adelia glanced at the three men before following after them. Rusk’s partner shut the door firmly behind her.

\----------------------------

When she met up with Rusk at the Wriggly Pig as they’d planned to, he was quick to apologise for the awkwardness of the morning. “I am sorry to have dropped in like that. I hope I have not caused any disquiet between yourself and the Wiggins, what with our engagement.”

Adelia was quick to reassure him. “All is fine, Bartholomew. You’re just doing your job. The Wiggins don’t hold our association against me – if Matthew has broken the law or whatever he has done, he will have to answer for it. He always was rather impulsive, as I recall.” Adelia shook her head, sighing. “I do hope he is alright, though. He has always been kind to me. And Martha will be worried, of course. He is her son, even if he is a man now.”

Rusk sighed as well. “I’m not at liberty to say much, but he is fine for now.” A waiter deposited a cup of tea to each of them. Rusk took a generous gulp of his own, with an idle wish for something stronger. Adelia reached for his hand when it was free. His touch was comforting to her, even through the gloves.

“I understand,” she murmured, “but thank you. That does reassure me. Whatever has gone on, I am confident you will sort it out.” 

Rusk snorted and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I will do my best as I always do. Your confidence in me is a boon, Miss Addington.”

Adelia smiled and released his hand so he could enjoy his tea. “Let’s talk of more pleasant things. How is Colonel Jones faring?” Rusk had invited her to join him in a planned meet up of his old army buddies, his closest friends after the death of his family, and she had enjoyed herself enormously. They were a friendly and somewhat raucous bunch, but Bartholomew’s camaraderie with them was obvious and she’d been honoured to be invited. They had welcomed her warmly and she had left pleasantly tipsy and feeling like part of a family. Despite the great enjoyment of the evening, she’d shed a few tears that night, for the family she had lost. Even the most pleasant of things could bring back the pain of that loss.

Bartholomew had proposed to her the next day, admitting he had been wanting to do so for a while, but had wanted her to meet his old comrades first. He’d originally planned to propose once he’d walked her home, but had changed his mind when he realised that she was drunk, unwilling to ask when her mind was unclear. His integrity had brought tears to her eyes yet again and, she was somewhat embarrassed to admit, she had launched herself at him, so great was her joy.

Rusk’s reply brought Adelia sharply back. “Nathan is well. Ecstatic for us, actually.” Bartholomew grinned and Adelia had to return it. “He said to tell you that you’ve attached yourself to a, and I quote, a right stick in th’ mud but a damn devoted one.” Adelia laughed along with him.

“You are no stick in the mud, dear sir. Devoted, however, I will give you. That is quite accurate.” Her smile turned soft and she reached out to lay her hand on his forearm. “I have to say, you are the best man I have ever known.” Her words were intense but quiet. The murmurs of the inn were ignored by the two lovers in their own private world.

“I hope you continue to see me as such, Adelia. I promise I will always do right by you.”


	6. A Conversation, One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little thing, prompted by thoughts of the difficulties the spouses of law enforcement officials can go through. Always waiting for the loved one to come home. Long hours, the many demands, the public scrutiny, the physical and mental exhaustion. I doubt it comes through quite so strongly, but what have you.  
> Not sure whether this is late engagement period or marriage period to be honest, but as I'm writing this I feel that marriage period makes more sense.  
> As always, enjoy.

“I knew what I was getting into,” Adelia replies softly. “I admire your dedication. I’ll admit it’s hard sometimes, but I chose this, chose you, and I’m proud of you and- I’m rambling.” She turned away from Bartholomew’s gentle smile, though it gladdened her to see it. It was a great improvement on the fierce frown he’d worn previously. Bartholomew reached out and gently turned her towards him.

“Thank you,” he said as he squeezed her hand. Adelia tittered, enjoying the soothing caress of his thumb.

“Honestly I can’t imagine you in any other occupation. Being a policeman isn’t just your job, it’s who you are.” She admitted, finally voicing thoughts she’d previously only admitted to her diary.

Bartholomew nodded. “I agree. It seemed the obvious choice, when I left the army.”

Biting her lip, Adelia gave voice to the worries that this type of conversation always stirred. “I feel that’s my job – looking after you, caring for you, giving you a safe space to relax and deal with whatever you have to face out there,” she nodded her head to the busy street outside the window. “I hope you know that I’m here, to listen or whatever you need.” Damn it, she could feel her eyes starting to sting and her throat tighten. Bartholomew pulled his hand away to cup her face, tilting it so she looked at him. He was suddenly very close.

“I do,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I appreciate it.” A second forehead kiss. “I thank you for it, darling.”

Adelia laughed breathlessly, her heart lightened. The world was a beautiful place. “You know what calling me darling does to me,” she chided him playfully. Bartholomew chuckled.

“That I do. I hope you don't mind me taking advantage of it too much, my darling.”

Adelia had to laugh.


	7. A Tea Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this chapter was inspired by a Victorian tea gown I saw on tumblr. Odd, I know, but that's me. Mid-to-late courtship period, mostly a little flirtation and Adelia inner monologue, because that seems to be mostly what I write. Told you these things wouldn't be in order. Maybe I'll jig them around at some point.

Adelia smiled when Bartholomew Rusk was shown into the parlour. Their courtship had been progressing nicely, and it was high time, she thought, that he become properly acquainted with her friends and guardians. Thus, she had secured permission to invite him to one of the routine tea parties Lady Wiggins hosted for family and close friends.

Plus, she thought, smoothing her gown, it would be his first time seeing her in evening dress, and she had picked out this dress with that thought in mind. It was relatively simple, lacking the embellishments preferred by upper class ladies, but it flattered her figure and the colour brought out the green in her eyes. Her light hair was twisted up in an elegant do, which had the benefit of being both fashionable and exposing her neck.

She made her way over to him. “Good evening, Mr Rusk.” She greeted him with a smile, escorting him further into the room. “I’m pleased you were able to make it.” The demands on police officers were great and often unexpected, as crime followed no-one’s schedule.

“As am I, Miss Addington.” He replied with a polite smile. She caught him glancing at the graceful column of her throat and had to turn her head away to hide her pleasure. The informal and intimate nature of the tea party also meant that gloves were not necessary; which pleased her greatly when their fingers had occasion to brush against each other. The urge to seek out these occasions was quite strong but she managed to resist – for the most part. If he noticed, he seemed only amused.

Truly, it had been his honourable and affable character that had interested her primarily, and caused her to accept his courtship. But the more she grew to like him personally, the greater her physical interest in him grew as well. She had not considered him that way at all at the beginning of their acquaintance, but this seemed to be how she was made. Though her more lascivious thoughts caused her to flush, she enjoyed them; this was her first such experience and so she savoured her interest in Bartholomew, and encouraging his interest in her.

That was the reason behind her beaming smile when he leaned towards her ear and admired “I must say you look exquisite tonight. That dress suits you well.” 

“Thank you. You are quite dashing yourself.” 

Perhaps they were being too flirtatious for polite society, but both of them had reasons to disregard the more stringent rules in favour of being themselves. It was, perhaps, one of the reasons she felt so comfortable with him, when she had been certain she would never be at ease in company or alone, only a few short years ago. The tea party worked in their favour here too; they were in company and so chaperoned, but with the others mostly entertaining themselves they were allowed to converse freely, and did so.

It was a most pleasant evening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the whole glove issue: in Victorian times it was generally considered necessary for both men and women to wear gloves in public settings.  
> Tea gowns were an informal mode of dress (ie. did not require a corset) meant for informal entertaining of family and close friends.  
> Also, courting men and women weren't supposed to touch each other, with one exception: offering the lady a hand over difficult terrain, which clearly isn't the case here.
> 
> For all of Rusk's politeness, he will do things his own way.  
> I swear at some point I will actually get into Adelia's backstory.


	8. A Pleasant and Informative Stroll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-Courtship period, I think. I think this is the longest one yet, though still under 1000 words. I quite like this one, and yes finally we get the start of concrete details of Adelia's past, though not much yet. Trust takes time to develop.  
> Enjoy.

“Will you walk with me, Miss Addington?”

Adelia paused where she was pulling on her coat. “Certainly, Mr Rusk. Are you finished for the day?” She asked, rather surprised as it was only four. Inspector Rusk never finished work so early, the man was practically a workaholic. He sensed her disbelief and let out an amused huff.

“Near enough. Do you have any errands to run?”

Adelia resumed her preparations to leave. “Not today.”

“Then are you amenable to a stroll through the embankment gardens?”

“That sounds lovely.”

Rusk nodded and held the door open for her. Bird song twittered through the air as they strolled, and Adelia breathed in the scent of recently cut grass. The headache that had been building throughout the day relented, though whether the relatively fresh air or Rusk’s relaxing presence were the cause she did not know. She sighed peacefully.

“Have you had a hard day, Miss Addington?” Rusk inquired with an air of concern. For the first time that day, Adelia felt a true smile twist her lips.

“Not really. Just… I’ve been in a melancholy mood today, is all. They come on me, at times. You should know that, before you decide whether to wed me or not. They don’t tend to last too long and they’ve become less frequent… Especially now we’ve been courting, come to think of it. Likely because I’m enjoying life rather more I have in the past, I imagine.” She laughed lightly. “Please forgive me for rambling. I’ve not had many people to talk to over the years, and you are very easy to converse with, so the words just gush out of me like a river. I hope it does not disturb you.” She cast him an apprehensive side glance, but he seemed unbothered by her free speech.

“Not at all, though I’m sorry to hear you lacked for companions. I thought you said that you got on well with your family.” His tone was faintly questioning.

“I did,” Adelia replied, gaze on the beauty around them. Though apprehensive about the direction the conversation was taking, she could not in good conscience let him court her, never mind potentially marry her, without speaking of her past. There were things he would have to know. She supposed this was as good a place to start as any. “But I have not seen any of my family for… 16 - no 17 years. My parents died when I was 12. My brother and I were separated after their deaths, and I have not seen him since. The people who took me in… were not good people. I had no true friends there. No friends at all until I found the Wiggins again, and they were kind enough to grant me sanctuary… That was four or five years ago, I’d say.”

Adelia blinked away tears, let loose a gusty sigh. The admittances were at once nerve-wracking and freeing, but her soul felt lightened to share the pain, however vague she was yet being. Bartholomew allowed her to recover her composure in peace, though he slipped his arm through hers as a show of comfort and solidarity. The contact, indecent as it might have seen to some, warmed her and she squeezed his arm in thanks.

“You are a good, kind man, Mr Rusk. I do not think I have thanked you for that.” She murmured.

“You do not have to,” he replied, tone firm but gentle. “Just allow me to continue showing you the kindness you have clearly lacked, and I will consider myself well satisfied.” 

Adelia did not bother to smother her smile. “Careful now, or you will make me blush. Now tell me, what is your true purpose for bringing me this way? We are approaching the scene of that assault you have been investigating, are we not?”

Bartholomew smiled grimly. “You do not miss much, Miss Addington. Aye, we are. I am both working and spending time with you. Two birds with one stone, as they say. Do not worry, you are in no danger. I simply wish to observe those who hang around this area, without drawing attention to myself.”

Realisation dawned. “Ah, so I am a shield! You are undercover, like that Frenchman you have spoken of before. Eugene Vidocq.” She laughed lightly, her tone conspiratorial. To the outside observer, they looked a true image of lovers exchanging sweet words. She imagined that was the point; with the image they were currently presenting, no-one would assume that a police officer was present. She had to admire his cunning.

Keeping her voice quiet and her eyes peeled she said “You should have said, Inspector. I would have been happy to be your cloak and shield. If you require such services in the future, please do not hesitate to ask. I doubt I have the constitution required for all the rigours of police work, but I am happy to assist where I can. I do so admire the work you do.”

Rusk smiled at her, though his eyes remained on the people that bustled around them. “Thank you. I may take you up on your offer, already this has been both a pleasant and informative stroll.”

“I do not doubt it. You are most skilled at your work, all agree. You will have to tell me more of this Monsieur Vidocq, so I can be of greater use.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eugene Vidocq is considered the father of modern criminology; he lived from July 24, 1775 to May 11, 1857, and was originally a criminal himself. He later became a police informant, private detective and criminalist (a sort of early forensic scientist). His exploits include: hiring women to go undercover (often ex-criminals themselves), creating the first plaster cast of a shoe print, and hiring chemists to create bond paper that couldn't be altered (or rather that would make it obvious that it had been altered). Some of his techniques are still used in France today, and the Metropolitan police - of which Rusk is a member - sent two commissioners to be trained in his techniques and methods. His life story has inspired writers such as Victor Hugo and Edgar Allan Poe.
> 
> Naturally, I thought Rusk would admire the man and be intelligent enough to utilise his methods.
> 
> The Victoria Embankment Gardens are a real place, though I've never been, and should be near the location of Scotland Yard which is also on the Victoria Embankment.


	9. A Tense Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now engaged, Bartholomew and Adelia have a few things to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was both a pleasure to write and somewhat uncomfortable. It's the closest thing to an argument I've written between these two so far, so I hope it's okay. Let me know what you think, my imaginary readers.  
> New longest piece!  
> Engagement period, though that's clear in-story. Enjoy.

“Your brother was made a viscount.” Bartholomew’s voice was cold. Adelia disliked it immediately. Then his words registered and her stomach sank like she’d swallowed a rock. They were alone in one of the sitting rooms of the Wiggins home. She supposed she should thank him for that small mercy.

“I know,” Adelia admitted hesitantly, “Lady Martha told me, when I found them again.”

Rusk’s face was hard and unreadable. “You did not think to inform me?” He asked, and his voice was deceptively pleasant. “Did you not think that I should know I was courting, and am now engaged to, a Viscountess? That you are so above my station? Did you think that funny? That I have been addressing you incorrectly our entire acquaintance, _my Lady_?” His increasing harsh anger caused Adelia to sink back against her seat, regret blooming inside her.

“I am no Lady, Mr Rusk.” Despite her shame, she kept her voice steady. “My brother likely thinks I am dead, as does too the rest of the world. Only the Wiggins and now you know otherwise. Let it remain that way. Let me remain Miss Addington… unless you ever find it in yourself to make me Mrs Rusk.”

“I cannot marry you. You must know how society would view such a match. I would be ruined. You would be ruined… And you should not assume that you’ll never re-join your family. I intend to bring those who tormented you to justice.”

Adelia felt staggered, thankful she was sitting or she would have certainly fallen. “You cannot,” she whispered.

When he replied his voice had all the immovability of a mountain. “I am a police inspector, your Ladyship. Holding people to the account of the law is what I do.”

Adelia closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions assailing her. With her head in her hands, she sought to regain her composure. She could not let him leave before this was settled, and she would need every ounce of persuasiveness she could muster.

“I suppose I should have expected this when I told you of my past. I know how dedicated you are to your work.” Rising, she crossed over to him. Taking the seat beside him she clasped his hand in both of hers urgently. “Do not do this, Bartholomew.” She entreated him in fervent whispers. “These people – they are more powerful than you can imagine and they would think nothing of killing you! I beg of you, please, do not pursue this! I have come to care greatly for you, and even if I didn’t I could not sentence you to their cruelty. If I must lie and keep my past to myself in order to prevent this I will.” She tightened her grip on his hand, holding eye contact despite the fear in her heart. “I shudder to think of you in pain, Bartholomew Rusk, and I will not be a factor in your death.”

Abruptly she released him and rose to pace the room. It was suddenly far too small. The pleasant weather and voices outside seemed to mock her inner turmoil, had she not been blind and deaf to them. Her back turned to him, she heard the Inspector sigh and the shuffle of cloth as he stood. By the time she’s turned, apprehensive of how much of herself she has now revealed, how vulnerable she feels, he was in front of her. Her expression softens him.

“Miss Add- My Lad- What should I call you?” He asks, exasperated.

“Adelia,” she replies, bold even in despondency, “forsake decency as I already have, and just call me Adelia. There is only us here, and I have already entrusted you with other secrets.”

Bartholomew stared at her before replying. “Very well then, Adelia. I am not a stranger to danger, as you well know. I will not run from it now. I would pursue your tormentors not only because it is my duty, but for you. These people have caused you pain, and I will see them pay for it. I will see you able to return to the family I know you miss. Do not trouble yourself to deny it,” he warned as she opened her mouth to do just that, “I am an observant man, and to you in particular have I applied this faculty most ardently. I planned on marrying you, and I wished to know, intimately, the woman I would be spending the rest of my life with. I know your habits, your pleasures, your annoyances and your mannerisms. You cannot lie to me, I know the way your eyes shift when you do.” He sighed, tracing her face with his gaze. “I see your fear, Adelia.” He continued, softer than before. “Share it with me. Tell me everything you know of those who stole you from your family, and all their associates, and I will do everything in my power to rid you of them. Do you not see that I only wish you peace and happiness? This is how I can give you that. Let me give you that.”

Tears trailed down Adelia’s cheeks. Her body shook as she held in sobs. When Bartholomew embraced her, her ragged control deserted her and she wept freely. Bartholomew said nothing, just held her close and allowed her to release her pain. Neither knew how long they stood there before Adelia’s tears ran dry. She straightened up, wiping her face with the handkerchief he offered with a gentle look.

Adelia kept her gaze downward for a few more moments, assembling her thoughts and pushing down shame that society told her to feel. They had already forsaken decency. Bartholomew Rusk would not hold her emotional display against her, she knew. Readied, she met his gaze with a firmness that shouldn’t have surprised her; she had weathered far worse storms than this.

“You wish to see me happy, Bartholomew?” He nodded without hesitation, he had already admitted such.

She managed a small smile. “Then marry me, as you planned. Times have changed, and I think you’ll find that a Viscountess marrying a commoner will not cause such the scandal you fear, though you breaking our engagement will. A woman with a broken engagement is a fallen woman. I have lived with fear for years now. Swear you will marry me, and I will swear you will see me joyous. If you know me so well, you must know that I love you, Bartholomew. The rest… We can discuss the rest. Just say you our engagement stands.” 

“Of course it stands. I’m sorry I reacted so poorly, it was an unexpected discovery and I let my reaction get away from me. I’m sure I’ve told you before: I would not dream of dishonouring you. Besides,” his tone turned sardonic, “it would be ridiculous not to marry, after putting in all this time and energy.” Adelia laughed despite herself, as he had hoped, and he smiled to see her mood lighten. Adelia shook her head as her laughter trailed off.

“How did you discover my title, anyway?” She inquired curiously.

“Lord Wiggins informed me, when he thought it clear that you would not. He said I should know.” Adelia frowned, uncomfortable with the idea that her friend and benefactor was displeased with her.

“Do not fret.” Bartholomew sought to reassure her. “I think he simply wishes me to well-prepared for the future at your side. And certain that I will not abandon you, should I have learned later. He cares greatly for you, darling. He only wants what’s best for you.”

Despite everything, all the social norms they had brutalised in the last hour alone, Adelia found herself blushing at the endearment. Bartholomew chuckled at her pink cheeks.

“I am pleased to see that forsaking decency has not rendered you incapable of flushing – pink cheeks suit you well, darling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forsaking decency is a bit of a theme for these two. I've had "forsake decency" as their arc words for ages in my head, so it's good to finally get it on paper, so to speak.  
> Not sure if this will come up again in-story, so I'll explain here: After the death of their parents both Adelia and her brother were raised to the peerage, as Viscount(ess), as an honour to the father who served the Empire all his life and died returning home after preventing violent unrest in overseas territories. Adelia's father was a very successful and wealthy middle-class-turned-upper-class merchant. He developed strong and mutually beneficial relationships with the people he traded with, and this allowed him to settle disputes between locals and imperial officials without violence, though he didn't approve of imperialism himself. Great social change was afoot throughout the Victorian period, and as far as I can tell, Adelia is right in stating that breaking an engagement would be seen as far more ruinous than marrying a man from a lower social class than herself, particularly as a 'new' noble not connected to the old aristocratic families. 
> 
> Also note that women really were supposed to keep a tight lid on their emotions, especially in the presence of men (etiquette books of the period warned against laughing whilst in public in case a woman drew attention), and the display that Adelia demonstrates would have been considered highly shameful and embarrassing - though I suppose in some ways that's still the case today, in a lot of contexts.  
> I hope you all have a safe space for releasing your feelings. Remember: if it's not a life-and-death situation, it's always ok to cry, male or female or in-between.


	10. Considerations, One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bartholomew Rusk thinks of what he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that writing advice: show don't tell? Yeah, that's been completely thrown out the window here (not that I'm good it normally). This is all Rusk inner-monologue, because I've realised this series is rather Adelia-heavy. Flows between pre-courtship and courtship periods. Hopefully you enjoy it.

His job means a lot to him, gives purpose to his life. The things he had seen in battle had changed him, there was no going back from that, but the police had given him a way forward. A practical, useful purpose for his darkness-accustomed mind. After he’d lost his arm that had been important. It was a little dramatic to say that the work saved him – but it had helped.

So it makes sense that it is her efficient work that he first notices about her. She’s one of the small army of clerks that the Met employs to handle the truly monumental amounts of paperwork generated by criminal and police activities, and she is very good at her job. So good, he notes, that she’s nearly invisible, working away at her desk in the basement. He’d admired her work ethic, crisp and clear handwriting and practical approach to her role before it had occurred to him to admire the woman. He’s almost embarrassed to admit, later, that she’d helped him several times in the dull and dusty records room before he’d learned her name. She hadn’t offered it, just her assistance.

After that first random conversation, he observes her, when he can. He finds reasons to wander down to the basement room where she works to collect files himself, rather than sending Hinkley. It gives him an excuse to start polite conversation. He learns her name: Adelia Addington. But these little snatches of her will not tell him what he needs to know, so he asks to court her. Later that day and over the next he considers how shocked she was, and thinks that perhaps he should have given her more hints as to his intentions. But by Monday she’s agreed, so he doesn’t worry any more about it. His weekend had passed slower than usual, his body and mind fraught with a lowly-simmering tension he’s not accustomed to. The sensation hadn’t been completely unpleasant. Certainly much preferable to the apathy he’s felt coming over him over the years.

Because he hadn’t been completely upfront about that. It wasn’t simply loneliness motivating his desire for companionship. On the whole, he didn’t mind solitude, had always got on well in his own company. He wanted a… connection to humanity, he supposed. It had been, what, 7 years since he’d been discharged? He saw his old army buddies on occasion, but they had their own lives to lead, and often families to take care of too. His family was dead, or distant and though he loved his job, it was impossible to ignore that the long hours, demanding work and constant exposure to the depravities of humanity, only to return to an empty house with only his own mind as a companion-distraction, were slowly wearing him down.

He wasn’t depressed, but thought it possible he might be heading that way. What he needs, he deduces over long hours of introspection, is a connection. Someone to take an interest in, to care about, outside of his work and duty. Someone to talk to, laugh with, share with. Taking a wife is the first option that occurs to him, because it’s the most prevalent and socially acceptable. He considers the idea over several months, as spring turns to autumn then winter, and concludes that the idea is not a bad one and certainly worth an attempt. He cannot go on too much longer as he is, not without serious consequences he does not know how to handle. He does not come to the conclusion lightly. Yes, he has the financial stability to support a wife, perhaps even a family, but he knows enough about marriage to know that there are emotional aspects too. He does not know exactly what he has to offer in that department, having never been in a romantic relationship before, but he’s damn willing to try. Wants to. That was the whole point, after all.

After reaching that conclusion, the next consideration is, of course, who. What woman can he forge a connection with? The majority of the women he interacts with are either criminals or victims of crime. Neither option is appropriate or appealing. The one girl he had once thought he might marry was long gone, and even if she wasn't, he was not the boy he'd been then. He very much doubted that Rebecca would recognise that boy in the man he'd become. Then he thinks of Miss Adelia Addington. He doesn’t know her well, but he likes what he’s seen. There may well be a reason she’s chosen not to marry, but there is no harm in inquiring about courtship, so he does. 

Their courtship starts better than he expected. Much better than his last attempt, which had been mostly awkward on both sides and hadn’t lasted very long. But he has a better idea of what he wants now, and the self-assurance to ask for it. If Miss Addington isn’t interested in providing it, he’ll look elsewhere, having gotten to know a work colleague and with no harm done. He feels more cheerful than he has in months. He even finds himself whistling on his way to work, a habit of his youth he’d thought long gone.

One of the things that draws him to her is her reaction to his amputation. He’s become accustomed to the polite disgust-pity mix of respectable society, but he’ll never enjoy it. She does not turn from it, but neither does she stare. He is neither broken nor a freak in her eyes, just a man with one arm. When she lit his cigarette for him, it hadn’t been out of pity or helpfulness or a desire not to watch him fumble, but out of playfulness, even flirtation. He wonders if she realises how rare, and how appealing, that is. If it had been anything else, he would have had to have ended things, no matter how much he liked her. He had to be able to talk about his experiences without feeling like he was making people uncomfortable, he’d realised that early on. Usually, he only experienced it when talking to other veterans. He felt it with her.

He admits to himself that he’s somewhat enthralled. It’s been so long since Rebecca that it feels brand new, and he enjoys it. He’d considered himself dead to such things. For once, it’s good to be wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The First Boer War, where Rusk lost his arm, took place from 16th December 1880 until 23rd March 1881. I figure he makes it back to England having been honourably discharged that same year, does a little bit of soul searching and joins the London Metropolitan Police not long after (1882-83). Whereupon he works his way up through the ranks.
> 
> Oh, James Hinkley is the name I've decided to give Rusk's junior inspector partner - you know, the guy Malcolm shoots in season 3. It's his actor's name and seemed appropriate. I always felt sorry for him, he was just following his superior and doing his job.


	11. Promises (Out of Context?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadblocks on the road to happiness. 
> 
> Set when Bartholomew and Adelia are married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly not sure if this is part of the continuum of this series, or an AU of it. Also, the tense was all over the place. I am absolutely awful at sticking with one, how did I ever pass English? So, this piece is present tense, where all the others are past. Maybe, if I end up writing other Out-of-Context AU pieces they should be in present tense too, to separate them from the main continuity.  
> Either way, early marriage period.  
> Have some short and angsty hurt/comfort and please enjoy.

When Bartholomew walks in, he finds Adelia leaning against the living room door in a way that suggests it’s the only thing keeping her standing. When he catches the exhaustion in her expression, he’s surging towards her with his coat only half removed.

“What’s the matt-“ his foot strikes something hard, and he glances down at it impatiently, but the full suitcase arrests his attention. Adelia follows his gaze.

“Oh,” she says, her tone as defeated as her expression. Silence. Then, “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

He tries to keep his voice calm, though his mind is _buzzing_. “What’s going on, Adelia?”

Her eyes are fixed on the case. It takes her a few attempts to speak, and each false start shoots ice through his veins. “I was going to leave.” She finally manages. His throat closes.

“You were pushing,” she continues, “then I’d get upset and you’d stop but I could tell you were getting impatient and maybe worried, so I… I thought I’d go. Get away.”

She’s looking at him now, though tears blur her vision. “But I couldn’t.” She whispers. “I couldn’t do it. I kept thinking about- about us, and where I’d go and what I’d do… And how you wouldn’t be there. And I couldn’t. The thought of a future without you in it… I can’t handle it. I don’t think I’d survive that.” She trails off, then laughs abrupt and brittle. “So here I am, still.” She finishes. Then she’s pressing her lips together to a firm, bloodless line and the tears spill over her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, voice catching. Her arms reach for him, but she catches herself and holds them back. That’s all it takes; Bartholomew reaches forward, almost tripping over the suitcase, and fastens Adelia to him. They cling to each other, rocking slowly.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs into her hair. “Everything’s alright, darling.” He let out a soft sigh, so utterly thankful she was still here. “I’m sorry for pushing, darling. I’m sorry you thought you had to leave. I’m so glad you didn’t…” The thought of her gone, her person and belongings vanished without a trace opens a raw, aching chasm inside him that almost sends him to his knees, and his hold tightens. “Don’t leave,” he begs. “Whatever you need, Adelia, say the word and it’s yours. Please, help me. I need to track those scum, you know that, and _I need you_. Do you understand?” He feels her head nod, errant hairs tickling his chin. “I need you.” He repeats, suddenly struck by just how true the sentiment is. “I love you, Adelia.”

Her hands tighten on him, and it gladdens him. “I love you too.” She whispers, voice shaking. “I’m sorry. I won’t do this again, I promise. It’s just, I’ve always run and hidden from my fears.” She confesses. She feels weak and afraid, but knows she is exactly where she belongs.

“No,” he affirms, feeling calmer as certainty settles over him. “You haven’t. Do you remember how you feared to trust me? How you were afraid before I asked to court you? You didn’t run, you didn’t hide. You faced it. You faced your nightmares for years when they held you captive, and you can face them now.” He places a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right beside you,” he promises, “always. You and I will walk side-by-side for eternity, my darling.” 


	12. The Damaged Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from Season 2 Episode 5  
> A moment of understanding between Bartholomew Rusk and Ethan Chandler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is essentially a drabble, just a little thing that I think could have taken place in episode 5 of season 2 during the meeting between Rusk and Ethan in Rusk's office.  
> Brona and Adelia are alluded to but don't appear.  
> Marriage period.

“Tell me, Mr Chandler, do you know what became of Brona Croft?”

Ethan jerked his gaze to the Inspector, unable to hide his shock at the unexpected question.

“I don’t know who that is.” He replied after a moments pause.

“Oh,” the Inspector’s eyebrows rose, “how strange. Other guests, those that escaped the massacre, have told us that you were frequently seen together.”

Ethan swallowed and looked away. The Inspector watched him for a few moments, shuffling papers as he did.

“I have a report here that she’s an Irish immigrant running away from an abusive fiance.” He sighed, forehead creasing. “As far as descriptions go it’s not particularly useful. She’s hardly the first woman to do so, and she won’t be the last. I don’t hold her circumstances against her, but it would be good to know where she’s vanished to-“

“Stop it.” Ethan spits out. “Just… stop it.”

Bartholomew observed the man’s bowed head and slumped posture. “Ah,” he said tactfully. “Love, was it? I know that tune well enough.”

He shook his head and reached for a cigarette, before casting the man sat across from him a wry smile. “It’s always the damaged ones that draw you in, isn’t it, Mr Chandler? The ones that have been broken, but have not let themselves be destroyed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'the broken things' is such a major theme in Penny Dreadful, and I just love it. It's something everyone can relate to; at some point in our lives, we've all considered ourselves broken, haven't we?
> 
> I know Adelia's backstory, her brokenness, hasn't been explored yet in this series, but it's there, taking shape in my mind.


End file.
